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Dhan of the Pearl Country 






















Dhan and Mayna live in Ceylon 






DHAN 

of the 

PEARL COUNTRY 




By 

PHYLLIS AYER SOWERS 

n 



Illustrated By 
MARGARET AYER 


JUNIOR PRESS BOOKS 

ALBEKfp'HITMAN 

GK 4co 

CHICAGO 
19 3 9 


Copyright, 1939, by 
ALBERT WHITMAN fe? COMPANY 


• c hn?>\ 

IV* 

Cc>y 



Lithographed in the U.S.A. 


£.'CI A 1 32259 

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SEP 22 1939 




TABLE OF CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Pearl Town . 17 

The Home under the Coconuts. 26 

Mayna's Oyster. 42 

With the Gypsies. 52 

Dhan Makes a Friend. 59 

The Iron Dragon. 73 

In the City of the Past. 87 

The Festival of the Sacred Tooth. 100 

The Pearl . 113 

























. 






























































































LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 


Dhan and Mayna live in Ceylon.Frontispiece 

All at once life became very busy. 19 

Dhan's father held a basket for oysters...,. 23 

Dhan was close at his heels. 31 

There were dancers and performing animals. 35 

In a moment Dhan was pounding him heartily. 39 

"Will you give me your pretty earrings?". 47 

"Take care, young Dhan". 50 

"Have a bite of my supper". 63 

"All I smell is curry," muttered Dhan. 67 

Dhan climbed ahead, giving Mayna his hand. 75 

It was the Colombo pearl merchant. 


83 

















LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 
[Continued] 

PAGE 

Yellow-robed monks strolled here and there. 91 

"It is time to stop talking and go to bed". 95 

There were huge, gaily-decked elephants. 103 

He ran after the carriage and jumped on the back. 107 

"Am I not to keep a little for myself?". 110 

Dhan hid in the next doorway to watch. 115 

He practiced walking back and forth. 119 

He sat down on the welhworn steps to rest-. 123 





























































. 










































































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. 

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Dhan of the Pearl Country 








B 


> ANG! BANG! 

The loud noise of the signal gun rang out on the 
stillness, rousing everyone in the little Cingalese 
town from slumber. It awakened Dhan and his sister Mayna. 
The two children sat up, rubbing their eyes, and Dhan ran 
quickly to the door of the hut. 

Outside it was still dark. Tom-toms were beating, the 
air was filled with excited voices and the sound of running 
feet, and torches flickered here and there in the night. Dhan’s 
father had jumped instantly from his sleeping mat and 
was already at the door. 


17 











“What’s happening, Father?” 

“It is the signal for the fleet to start for the pearl banks,” 
his father said. “I must hurry down to the boat that is to 
take me out. We start diving at dawn.” 

“Can’t I come with you?” Dhan begged. “Last year you 
said I was too young and would be in the way, but I’m big 
enough now. Please, Father — I’ve never seen you diving 
for pearls!” 

“Come if you like.” His father was already running down 
the street to the shore. “Maybe the Sahib masters will be 
angry and won’t let you on the boat,” he called back, “but 
you can try.” 

The opening of the government pearl oyster banks had 
made a great difference in this little town where Dhan and 
Mayna lived. All at once life had become very busy and 
exciting. From all over the country people came flocking, 
by boat and bullock cart, by car, and even across the water 
from India. There were sooty black Tamils, brown Cin¬ 
galese, Indians, Malays, Arabs, and many white men too. 

The streets were crowded, and everywhere temporary 
buildings had been put up. There were hospitals, offices 
and warehouses, great tanks to store the fresh water needed 
for drinking and bathing, and hundreds and hundreds of 
little shacks where the poorer newcomers lived. Many 


18 



All at once life became very busy 


















people had brought their own palm branches and thatch 
to make houses, for even the many palms of Pearl Town 
would not have been enough for all. 

Dhan ran beside his father, dodging his way among the 
crowds of hurrying men, all bound for the shore. Down by 
the water's edge the stir and bustle was greater than any' 
where else. Thousands of brown and black figures, looking 
like shadows against the flaring light of the torches, ran here 
and there, busy with tackle, hauling on ropes and swarming 
on the decks of the fishing boats. 

The boat which was to take Dhan and his father out to 
the fishing bank was painted bright blue. To Dhan's sun 
prise, as soon as they had scrambled on board the first thing 
his father did was to fling himself down on a comer of the 
deck. “There will be nothing we need do for an hour or 
so," he said. “Now I can finish my sleep out!" 

Most of the other men on board, Dhan noticed, were 
doing the same thing. But Dhan didn't feel at all sleepy. 
Everything around him was too new and exciting. He 
watched a noisy little tug which was being hooked on to 
a whole string of dhoneys or fishing boats, their own boat 
among the number. Soon it started towing them out to sea. 
This was much quicker than going under their own sail. It 
was about the only change which had been made during 


20 


the many centuries since pearl fishing in Ceylon first began. 

One by one the men were beginning now to wake up 
from their naps. Dhan could hear scraps of conversations 
being carried in several different languages. He gazed 
dreamily up at the sky. The stars were beginning to pale, 
and the water changed slowly from black to grey. Just be- 
fore dawn the fleet was cast loose from the tug. Dhan heard 
the crew stirring and voices shouting. Then he heard the 
splash of anchors all about as the fleet came to a stand round 
the spot where the oyster beds lay below, under the deep 
water. 

There were about fifty men on each boat, and they 
worked in pairs. Dhan's father took off his shirt and comboy 
— the straight narrow skirt worn by men and women alike 
in Ceylon — and hung them on the rigging, side by side with 
the many other bright-colored garments and turbans. 
Dressed only in a loincloth, he slipped a set of leather guards 
over his fingers to protect them from the sharp oyster shells, 
and he walked to the side of the boat. 

Many of the divers were Arabs. Dhan noticed that most 
of them had charms tied about their arms and that each 
wore a curiousdooking nose clip to keep the water out of his 
nostrils when diving. 

"Why don't you wear a nose clip?" he asked his father. 


21 


“I don't need it, any more than I need the verses from 
the Arabic holy book, the Koran, which those Arabs wear 
as a charm,” said his father, grinning. “Don't you see we 
have a shark charmer here to protect the men on this boat? 
Give him these coins, Dhan, and then I'll begin my diving.” 

The shark charmer, a rather surlydooking man, Dhan 
thought, stood on the deck taking coin after coin from the 
divers, who made little enough as it was from their hard 
and dangerous work. His job was far easier than theirs, for 
all he had to do for his pay was to sing and chant while 
they dived below. 

“Does he really do any good?” Dhan whispered to his 
father. 

“Hush, Dhan. If he should hear you he might send a 
shark to my side of the boat instead of keeping it away.” 

But the shark charmer had not heard. He was too busy 
arguing with a poor diver who declared he had not enough 
to pay for protection. 

Dhan’s father held in one hand a basket for oysters, 
fastened to a long rope. He stood on the edge of the boat, 
taking a big breath which filled out his chest like a barrel. 
Then he pinched his nostrils together with the other hand 
and hooking his toes firmly into the loop of a rope which 
was tied around a heavy stone, was lowered by his conv 


22 



Dhan’s father held a basket for oysters 





























panion into the grey water and then disappeared from sight. 

It seemed to Dhan that his father was a long time down 
in those mysterious depths of water. Really it was barely 
a minute before he gave the signal rope a jerk, and came 
floating up to the surface again with his legs bent like those 
of a huge frog. Pulling more on the rope, the watcher soon 
hauled up a dripping basketful of muddy oysters which 
Dhan's father had pulled from the bed in those few seconds. 
The watcher dumped them into their common sack. 

Dhan's father wiped his dripping, muscular body with a 
rag, and rested a few minutes to get his breath before he 
dived again. By this time the sun was well up above the 
horizon, and the sparkling dancing water didn't look nearly 
so dangerous as it had before. Dhan could even peer down 
into it a little way now, as he lay on his stomach on the deck, 
and see the rope wavering down into distance. 

All morning the divers worked, each man taking his turn 
to go down while the other pulled on the rope. At noon 
the government officer came around in his launch, stopping 
at each fishing dhoney to climb on board and fasten and seal 
the muddy sacks, so that no one could hunt for pearls until 
after he had reached shore. 

“It seems queer to think there are pearls inside those ugly 
muddy shells," Dhan said. 


24 


“It doesn't seem queer to me," answered his father, lying 
down wearily on the deck, ready to sleep during the long 
trip home. “When we reach shore the oysters will be 
divided. One third will go to the divers and boatmen and 
the other two thirds to the government. If I had time to 
open each of my oysters I might some day happen to find 
a large enough pearl to make me rich. But it is better to sell 
them unopened, and be sure of making some money each 
time." 

Dhan's father and his companions, and the Arabs wrapped 
in their striped burnooses , all looked like big bundles of cloth 
flung on the deck. Everyone was tired and no one spoke 
much; while the tug chugged ahead busily and the sun slid 
lower down the hot cloudless sky. Presently the tug stopped, 
and the long strings of fishing dhoneys cast loose. Each boat 
at once spread sail, and now there began an exciting race to 
see which would be the first to reach shore. 

Everyone woke up now, for each boat was anxious to 
win. The blue boat was the first to touch the sand, and Dhan 
gave a cheer. 

“Come along, boy," cried his father, shouldering his heavy 
sack. “Each diver wants to be first to get the pearl oysters 
into the enclosure where they will be counted and divided!" 
And he hurried up the beach. 


25 


II 

THE HOME UNDER THE COCONUTS 
Coconut palms played an important part in the life of 
the little town where Dhan and Mayna lived, and indeed 
everywhere in Ceylon. Mayna sometimes wondered how 
people managed in other countries where coconut palms 
did not grow. Shade and food and drink, oil to bum in 
lamps and to smooth Mayna’s sleek dark hair — almost 
everything one used was a gift from those tall friendly trees. 

The tiny house where Mayna and her brother and father 
lived was built of coconut trunks and dried mud, with a 
thick thatch of the giant leaves for its roof. Even the little 
fence which protected the small plot of chili peppers to be 


26 


eaten with their rice, was made of the strong ribs of the coco- 
nut leaves. The little brown baby who had just come to 
the people in the mud house across the road was sleeping in 
a cradle woven of string made from coconut husks. 

Mayna had learned to tell the time by the long palm 
shadows which crept farther and farther across the sand as 
the sun sank lower. By watching those shadows she would 
know when it was time to start a fire of the coconut husks 
which Dhan had collected in a big pile, ready to cook the 
rice and chilies for supper. Dhan and her father would be 
hungry when they came back from the oyster fishing. 

Ever since her mother died, most of the household tasks 
had fallen to Mayna. For so small a girl, she had learned 
to be a good cook and to take care of the house very well. 

Today, with Dhan and her father both away, Mayna had 
plenty of time for once to amuse herself. She decided to take 
a walk round the town and see what was going on. She 
wandered from one street to another, interested in every¬ 
thing around her. She saw merchants unpacking their wares 
and arranging little shops in the shade of trees. She saw 
farmers arriving in bullock carts from far out in the coun¬ 
try, bringing extra supplies of food for all the thousands of 
newcomers who had flocked here for the pearl fishing sea¬ 
son. She watched the snake charmer and the basket-trick 


27 


man and the traveling juggler. At last, feeling tired, she 
curled up under the shade of a big tree which had been made 
into a place for people to leave their smvumbrellas when not 
in use. Now it looked like a new kind of tree covered with 
strange fruits. 

As she sat there she saw a juggler who had just come to 
town. He was tossing brass plates high in the air, sending 
them whirling and spinning around his head like so many 
bright flashing suns. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Mayna cried, clapping her hands. “I 
wish Father would find a big pearl one day and be so rich 
he’d never have to work any more, but could juggle brass 
plates instead. It must be fun!” 

She looked admiringly at the gorgeous gypsy, but he only 
scowled at her and turned away. Then he sat down in the 
doorway of his crimson tent and began to smoke, while a 
gypsy woman went around with one of the plates to collect 
money from the little crowd who had been looking on. She 
paused on her way to say: “This is work too, little girl. We 
all hope to find a pearl when we come to Pearl Town.” 

She carried the money to the man and returned to Mayna’s 
side. 

“You are a diver’s child, are you not?” she asked. 

“Yes, and my name is Mayna. What is your name?” 


28 


They call me Ramagini,” the woman answered, smiling 
down at her. “I see the dhoneys have nearly reached shore, 
and I want to buy an oyster or two. Perhaps if Fm lucky 
I may find a pearl. Do you know how much your father 
charges for his oysters?” 

“I don’t know,” said Mayna, “but we can ask him when 
he comes home.” 

“Hush, don’t speak so loud.” The gypsy woman glanced 
over her shoulder. “The juggler would be very angry if he 
knew I had kept any money for myself. But I’ve been danc' 
ing for hours in the hot sun, and I have certainly earned it.” 

The oyster fleet was returning. Already they could see 
the fishing boats close offshore, the shining water foaming at 
their bows. Their brown and white sails were flapping like 
the wings of great birds. Mayna led the way to the beach. 

Nearly everyone was running toward the shore. Cingalese 
merchants in bright comboys and little caps, or with long 
hair twisted into knots and held in place with combs shaped 
like the crescent moon; Arabs in striped burnooses , officials 
and agents and policemen who had come to busy Pearl Town 
to help keep order during the fishing season; gypsies, dancers 
and priests, waving umbrellas and moneybags and all shout' 
ing “Sippi, sippi!” This word, which means oyster, was on 
everyone’s lips like a magic charm. 


29 


“Was it a good catch? Were there many oysters?” people 
were asking one another in great excitement as they hurried 
along. The amount of this first catch was important, for the 
divers would go out day after day as long as the supply of 
full-grown oysters lasted. 

Now the black and brown divers were leaping ashore, and 
Mayna caught sight of her father. His bare strong-muscled 
shoulders glistened as he carried the heavy dripping sack of 
oysters balanced on his head. Dhan was close at his heels. 

She called out: “Greetings, Brother! Were there many 
pearls?” 

The gypsy woman beside her laughed and said: “Who 
can yet tell that, before the oysters are opened? But cer¬ 
tainly there are many sippi!” And Dhan called back excit¬ 
edly: “Run and buy a palm leaf bag, little sister. When the 
oysters are divided we can help our father sell his share.” 

The divers were all carrying their sacks into an enclosure 
of bamboo fencing. Here there were many booths, each 
booth numbered for one of the boats. Dhan was not allowed 
inside, but the minute the oysters were divided and the 
opposite gates were opened by the official, the divers came 
swarming out like ants, each carrying his share of oysters 
and anxious to sell them as quickly as possible. 

Seated under a palm tree with Dhan on one side and 


30 



Dhan was close at his heels 














Mayna on the other, their father would hold up a muddy 
shell and bargain with one of those people who could only 
afford to buy one or two oysters at a time. It was very excit¬ 
ing for every one, for no one knew when a small, or even a 
large pearl might be found. Oftener of course there was 
nothing but an oyster inside the shell. 

“Give me one oyster, little girl, and be sure to choose a 
lucky one,” said Ramagini, the gypsy woman, turning be¬ 
tween her fingers one of the magic charms which hung 
around her neck. 

“I wish I could be sure,” answered Mayna kindly. But 
it hardly seemed possible to her that one of those ugly shells 
could contain anything as lovely as a pearl. 

The woman gave her a small coin, and sat on the ground 
to open her oyster. Her hands were trembling so with ex¬ 
citement that she cut her finger a little. But she didn't find 
even a tiny pearl though she searched ever so carefully. 

“I will buy one more,” she cried, and Mayna handed her 
one of the biggest oysters in the sack. But there was nothing 
of value inside this one either. The woman looked angry, 
her big black eyes flashing as she said: “You are a stupid 
child!” She threw down her shells in a temper and hurried 
away. 

Meantime Dhan and his father had been bargaining with 


32 


other buyers. Soon all the oysters were sold and there was 
a nice little collection of coins tied in a cloth. “It looks as 
though we'd be rich when the diving season is over,” said 
Mayna with shining eyes. 

“Oh no, Mayna, it really isn't much. Remember what we 
make must last us a whole year, or even longer should there 
be no pearl fishing next year. Take this and hide it carefully 
in a hole in the ground of our hut,'' whispered her father. 
“Dhan and I must go to the bathing tank to wash the salt 
and mud off our bodies in fresh water.'' 

Pearl Town was at its prettiest and most exciting at night. 
Every one was in from the water, and all the entertainers 
were doing their best to make the people spend money. 
Dhan's father could not resist spending nearly half of the 
coins which Mayna had buried so carefully, and he gener- 
ously gave each of the children a share. 

There was the sound of music and excited shouting. Peo- 
pie were advertising their wares for sale. There were dozens 
of new and tempting delicacies to eat, shows to which one 
could go, dancers and performing animals, jugglers and In¬ 
dian fakirs of all kinds. 

“All these flaring torches make night almost as bright as 
day.'' said Dhan to Mayna. They were walking along eating 
some coconut candy, which they had bought with their 


33 


very last bit of money. “What do you think we should do?” 

“It’s almost nine o’clock,” answered a strange voice at his 
side, “and the government auction of pearl oysters is about 
to begin at the courthouse. Would you like to go and look 
on?” 

“Is that where all these rich merchants are going?” asked 
Dhan. 

The man nodded. “I am going there myself, though I 
haven’t much to spend. My name is Pinla and I’m a merchant 
from the city of Colombo. I travel a great deal to buy and 
sell pearls. I have children at home, and one little girl just 
about the sise of your sister here.” He turned to Mayna 
with a friendly smile. “What is your name, little one?” 

Mayna told him, shyly smiling back. She wondered what 
the other little girl looked like. Maybe this man would bring 
her to Pearl Town. What fun they could have together! 

Dhan was thinking about Colombo. It was the capital of 
Ceylon, he knew, and a very busy port. He imagined it to be 
something like Pearl Town, only a great deal bigger. Ever 
since all these strangers had come to town Dhan’s mind had 
been running upon far-off places. More than anything else, 
he felt, he would like to travel, to see the rest of the world. 
Dhan made up his mind to ask this stranger all about Colom¬ 
bo, if ever he got the chance. 


34 



There were dancers and performing animals 





The courthouse was crowded, but the three found a 
place at the edge of the throng where they could see and 
hear what was going on. Dhan was very excited over the 
auction sale and the bidding, but Mayna soon grew tired 
and confused with all the noise and shouting. Her head be- 
gan to nod, and she was almost asleep when Dhan shook 
her gently and said: “We are going home now.'" 

“Look me up in the town tomorrow, Dhan,” said the 
merchant, “and I will tell you more about the pearl business.” 

The next morning Dhan didn't go with his father to the 
fishing fleet, but fell asleep the moment the noise of the 
signal gun and tom-toms had died down. 

Next day the town looked very mussy and untidy. 
Oysters were being opened all over the market place and 
the smell of rotting oysters filled the air. Now and then some 
one would find a pearl and rush off to drive a bargain with 
one or another of the merchants who sat under awnings or 
umbrellas ready to buy or sell. 

Dhan and Mayna watched their new friend Pinla grading 
small pearls in little sieves, or weighing them with delicate 
scales. He sat cross-legged on a matting beside a table about 
a foot high. Once they saw him carefully peeling a pearl 
with a slender little instrument. 

“It looks like a tiny onion,” said Mayna wonderingly. 


36 


“It’s only an imperfect pearl,” answered Pinla, "but when 
I have peeled away enough outer skins, you will see it as 
clear and beautiful as a drop of dew.” He held up the pearl 
for the children to admire and then locked it away in a 
brass box at his side. 

Next to him was a turbanned man with a three-legged 
stand. On top of this was a kind of bow drill which he 
twirled skillfully. 

"He's making holes in tiny seed pearls for a necklace,” 
explained Pinla. "Some lady of Colombo will be proud to 
wear it!” 

"I have a necklace of red seeds, but perhaps a pearl neck¬ 
lace would be prettier,” said Mayna. 

"And cost a great deal more,” said Pinla with a smile. 

"Here come the boats,” cried Dhan, who had been watch¬ 
ing eagerly for the last hour. "I must go and help father sell 
his oysters. I hope he got a good lot. Come on, Mayna. 
Goodby, Pinla, we will come and see you again if we may.” 

As they walked down the sunset-tinted street toward the 
shore a mocking voice called: "Hello, water turtles!” 

Dhan and Mayna turned and saw an Indian boy, watching 
them. He belonged to one of the traveling juggler troupes. 
Dhan already knew him by sight. 

"I don't like that boy,” he whispered to Mayna. "He 


37 


doesn’t look honest. Don’t you answer him, and I’ll make an 
ugly face instead. That’ll teach him to mind his own busi- 
ness!” 

He screwed up his face, making the most unpleasant ex¬ 
pression he knew how, as they walked along. "Was that 
ugly enough, Mayna?” 

"Ooo-h,” said Mayna, a little surprised herself. "I didn’t 
know you could look so awful.” 

"That’ll teach him,” Dhan muttered again. 

But they had not seen the last of the Indian boy. A little 
later, as Dhan squatted by his father’s side while they bar¬ 
gained over the oysters, a thin black arm shot out from the 
shadows, a hand quick as a monkey’s paw snatched one of 
the biggest oysters and disappeared. It happened so swiftly 
that Dhan’s father, busy with a customer, never saw the 
movement. But Dhan did. Thrusting his bag of oysters 
into his father’s lap he dashed after the Indian boy, who 
was dodging away into the darkness. 

The boy heard his running footsteps, and glancing over 
his shoulder as he ran he bumped into a palm tree and fell 
headlong. In a moment Dhan had caught hold of him, shout¬ 
ing: "Thief!” and was pounding him heartily, while the 
Indian boy kicked and bit and squealed, calling Dhan "son 
of a rat” and other rude, names. 


38 




In a moment Dhan was pounding him heartily 


Mayna could see them now tumbling about on the sand. 

“Look, Father, Dhan's fighting with a thief! 1 " she cried. 
But her father was too busy to notice what she said, so she 
jumped up and ran toward the beach. Just as she arrived 
the Indian boy, who was getting by far the worst of it, tossed 
Dhan the oyster sulkily and ran away. 

“He tried to rob us , 11 Dhan said indignantly. “Most likely 
the oyster is no good, but I wasn't going to let him keep it . 11 

“Are you hurt, Dhan? Your nose is bleeding and you 
look terrible , 11 said Mayna anxiously, as they walked back. 

“It doesn't hurt much. Here, take the oyster, and I’ll run 
and catch up with father and have a swim in the divers' 
tank . 11 

As her father had finished his selling for the night, Mayna 
tied the oyster in the band of her com boy, and went home. 
There she put it carefully aside in a corner of the house, 
meaning to tell her father about it on his return. But that 
evening she forgot, and many things were to happen before 
she thought of the oyster again. 

Next day, when the pearl fishers returned, her father was 
not among them. Accidents happen very often to oyster 
divers, and this time one had happened to ,him. One of his 
fellow divers brought the sad news to the two children 
waiting on the shore. 


40 


“Alas, your father never came up from his last dive,” he 
told them, gently. “I am afraid you will never see him 
again.” 

Dhan tried hard to be brave and to comfort Mayna. He 
wondered sadly what he could do to earn a living for himself 
and his little sister, now that they were all alone in the world. 




Ill 

MAYNA’S OYSTER 

At length the pearbfishing season was almost over, for 
by now the divers were only able to bring up three or four 
full'grown oysters at a dive. The whole town was littered 
with oyster shells. The once pretty grassy meadows were 
trampled and brown from many passing feet, while the smell 
of rotting oysters filled the air. 

But Dhan had found a job which brought him a little 
money every day. Mayna could see him near a special shed 
with a dozen brown men, leaning over a dugout canoe. 


42 








None of them wore any clothing excepting loincloths and 
perhaps a turban; and a man in a sun helmet, holding an 
umbrella over his head, stood guard. 

The canoe was half-filled with water and rotting oysters. 
It had been standing in the hot sun for ten days until there 
was nothing left inside but shell and slime — and perhaps 
pearls. Dhan and the other men threw out the empty shells 
one by one and felt about, rinsing and kneading the remains 
to try and find any pearl, however small, which might be hid¬ 
den there. 

The workers were not allowed to wear clothes, for fear 
one of them might find a pearl and try to hide it for himself. 
At the end of the day the guard would even search their ears 
and mouths before they were allowed to go. But poor Dhan 
felt so disgusted by the bad smell and unpleasantness, that 
the few small pearls he found did not seem beautiful to him. 

Every day more and more people were leaving Pearl Town 
to return to their own homes and Dhan watched them sadly, 
wishing he and Mayna could go away too. When he fin¬ 
ished his work with the rotting oysters he decided he would 
bathe and go to see his friend Pinla the merchant, and listen 
to stories of the cities to the south. He knew he would miss 
Pinla when that kind friend had to leave. 

While Dhan worked, Mayna wandered about taking a last 


43 


wistful look at the booths and tents that would soon be 
gone. For all these people — the jugglers and gypsies, the 
merchants and candy-sellers — had come to Pearl Town 
only for the fishing season, which was now at an end. Al¬ 
ready they were preparing to pack up and leave. How 
lonely the town would seem without them! 

She stood at the edge of a field watching the gypsies 
breaking camp. They were folding their crimson tents and 
packing their belongings to be ready for an early start on 
the morrow. 

Mayna yawned, and sat down in the shade of a palm. 
Everywhere the unpleasant smell of rotting oysters filled the 
air; there seemed no place where one could get away from 
it. “Even at home it smells of oysters!” she thought disgust¬ 
edly, wrinkling up her small nose. Suddenly she remembered 
the oyster Dhan had given her the night he quarreled with 
the Indian juggler boy. “That’s what Eve been smelling,” 
she thought. “It’s been lying there all the time. I’d better 
go home and throw it out while I think of it.” 

She ran back to the house. There was the oyster in the 
comer where she had hidden it. It smelled dreadfully. 
Mayna was just going to throw it away when, on second 
thought, she decided to look through it first. The shell was 
gaping a little, and she found a sharp stick with which to pry 


44 


it further apart. She hunted carefully through the dirty- 
looking oyster meat, as she had seen people doing so many 
times. 

But the sight of the opened shell reminded her again of 
her father. He had died the day after he fetched this very 
oyster up from the deep waters, and at the thought of him 
hot tears came again into Mayna’s eyes. One of the big 
drops fell right into the open oyster. Suddenly Mayna gave 
a jump and poked eagerly with her finger. For it seemed as 
if the tear drop had turned solid there before her astonished 
gase! 

There were many stories told about how pearls were 
formed. Mayna remembered hearing once that they came 
from tear drops. Perhaps it was true. She tried to cry again 
into the messy oyster, but somehow no more tears would 
come. 

She wiped the pearl she had found on her comboy , and 
held it to the light. Mayna knew very little about pearls, or 
what they might really be worth. To her this pearl looked 
a little dingy. It was certainly a pearl, but she had no means 
of telling whether it was a good one or not. She wished 
Dhan were there, so that she could show him her find. It 
would be worth some money, at least. 

“I think Ill show it to the gypsy woman who was so 


45 


anxious to find a pearl that night,” she thought. "Perhaps 
she’ll give me one of her pretty bracelets or earrings when 
she sees this.” 

Mayna found the woman strapping a heavy basket, while 
a small brown child wearing nothing but an amulet hung 
around its neck, stood clinging to her skirt. "Maybe she’ll 
give me a magic charm, too,” Mayna thought hopefully, for 
the gypsies sold charms and amulets to many people. 

Running up to her Mayna said breathlessly: "Will you 
give me your pretty earrings and a magic charm if I give 
you a pearl?” 

But the woman thought that Mayna was only joking. 

"I will not. Run along, I’m busy.” 

"Then will you give me your brass anklet?” Mayna asked. 

"No. I’ll call the curse of the witclvmare Yakka to carry 
you off, if you bother me any more!” 

The gypsy leader, her husband, was sitting on the ground, 
arranging the peacock feathers in his gay turban. He paid 
no attention to what was going on. 

"All right, I’m going,” said Mayna, somewhat disappoint' 
ed. "I only thought you might like this pearl. You wanted 
one before.” She opened her little brown hand just a mo' 
ment, so that the gypsy woman could catch a glimpse of 
what lay inside it, and darted away. 


46 



*\ar^a.tef t\yer- 


“Will you give me your pretty earrings?” 











The woman dropped her basket with a crash which made 
her husband shout angrily, while the baby began to wail. 
She dashed after Mayna, calling: “Come back, little girl! 
Maybe I will give you my earrings or some charms. Come 
back and we’ll see!” But now Mayna didn’t believe her, and 
still afraid that the gypsy woman would send the witclvmare 
Yakka after her, she dashed into her hut and slammed and 
bolted the door. How could one tell if a witch'inare were 
following, when one hadn’t the least idea what it might look 
like! 

She crouched in a comer, wishing Dhan would hurry and 
come home. Outside she could hear the woman’s voice, very 
gentle now and coaxing, offering her all kinds of pretty things 
if she would only show her the pearl again. But Mayna 
wasn’t going to be fooled. At last the woman went away, 
and Mayna, still trembling, hid the pearl carefully inside her 
blouse. 

The evening shadows were at their longest when Dhan 
came home. “Open the door, Mayna,” he called impatiently. 
“Why are you hiding in the dark like one of the little cousins 
of the crocodiles?” This was their name for the tiny lizards 
which hid in the crevices of rocks or scrambled about on 
the house walls to catch mosquitoes and other small insects. 
“Hurry! I have a big piece of news for you!” 


48 


Mayna ran to open the door, lit the coconut lamp and sat 
down by his side. She wanted to tell him about the pearl, 
but Dhan was too excited over his own news to listen to 
anything else. 

"We’re going to travel,” Dhan cried. "A gypsy woman 
called to me as I was coming home and said: 'You are the 
diver’s son who has a sister named Mayna, aren’t you?’ And 
when I said I was, she asked if we’d like to join their band. 
'We’re going south to the big cities,’ she said, 'and we could 
use another boy and girl to help with the animals.’ ” 

Mayna’s head was in a whirl. This was more exciting 
than anything she could have imagined, news important 
enough to put everything else out of her mind. 

"Dhan, how wonderful! Oh, I’m so glad! It’s dreadful 
staying here in Pearl Town now that Father has gone. I’d 
much rather go somewhere else.” 

"So would I,” said Dhan. "Now we’ll see all sorts of new 
places. The gypsies never stay in one place long. Pack a 
basket with our clothes, Mayna. Old Achmed the Arab 
says he will give me two rupees in silver for the house and 
beds and cooking pots.” 

Dhan went to their secret hiding place under the floor 
to dig up their little horde of money, while Mayna packed. 

Next morning they were off early, with the jingling cara^ 


49 



11 Take care, young Dhan” 












van of gypsies and bullocks. The merchant from Colombo 
waved to them from his little stall, and Dhan and Mayna 
ran over to say good-bye. 

“I hope that some day our paths will cross again,” said 
Pinla kindly, “and that some day Mayna, who is so like my 
little daughter, will have the necklace of pearls she’s always 
wanted.” He playfully shook the little chain of seed pearls 
he had been stringing, never suspecting that Mayna already 
owned a pearl larger and finer than any in his shop. 

She had forgotten it herself in the excitement. The gypsy 
woman, Ramagini, caught her by the arm and hurried her 
away, lifting her on to one of the bullocks. “There, you 
can ride because your legs are too short to walk fast,” she 
said. 

“Good-bye. May blessings stay with you, my good 
friend,” Dhan called, and the merchant said good-bye and 
whispered: “Take care, young Dhan. Don’t trust the gyp¬ 
sies too far. They are dishonest people and you must 
always be on your guard with them.” 

Dhan nodded, and ran quickly to take his place with the 
men at the head of the little procession. The gypsy leader 
scowled at him, and said wamingly: “Do not make too many 
friends along the way, boy. That’s not the way to do busi¬ 
ness.” 


51 


IV 

WITH THE GYPSIES 
The caravan made its way along the coast, stopping at 
every town or village where there seemed a chance to make 
money with fortunetelling and entertainment. When a big 
enough crowd had gathered to watch the dancing and jug' 
gling, Mayna was sent around among them to beg for coins. 
When she didn't bring back enough, Ramagini slapped her 
and called her stupid, though Mayna could never see that it 
was her fault. How could she make people give money 
unless they wanted to! 

The gypsy tents were gay and bright^colored, but not very 


52 



clean. The gypsies themselves bathed only once in a while, 
when they felt like it, instead of every day as Dhan and 
Mayna had always done. There were even fleas in the tents, 
which came from the poor little trained monkeys who spent 
most of their time scratching. 

But in spite of discomfort it was very wonderful and excit- 
ing to Dhan and Mayna to be really traveling, to sleep each 
night in a different place and to see new scenes and faces 
every day. 

When they made camp it was Dhan's job to help put up 
the tents, feed the animals, and fetch water from the nearest 
fresh-water tank, for in this part of Ceylon the only drink¬ 
ing water is to be found in these reservoirs, some of which 
were built by the Cingalese kings hundreds of years ago. 
The water bags, made of goat skins, were large and heavy, 
and often Dhan had to walk quite a long distance with them. 

One day as he was coming back to camp, the water bag 
over his shoulder, Dhan saw Ramagini talking to Mayna, 
and he slipped quietly behind a tree to listen. Though the 
gypsy woman seemed friendly enough when she was not 
scolding, Dhan remembered the merchant Pinla's warning, 
and didn't quite trust her. 

She was offering Mayna a bracelet, saying: 'Til give you 
this if you'll let me have another look at your treasure!" 


53 


Mayna reached inside her dress, and held out a little ol> 
ject on her brown palm which made Ramagini gasp, her 
black eyes eager and greedy. She snatched a glittering neck' 
lace of brass shells and coins from her own throat and was 
just about to thrust it into Mayna’s hands in exchange when 
suddenly the music burst out and the crowd which had 
gathered in the bazaar began shouting eagerly; while cries 
of “Ramagini, Ramagini, where are you?” rang out. 

“Hide that carefully and come with me. I have to dance 
now,” the woman said as she ran back to join her companions. 

Dhan stepped out from hiding, and caught Mayna’s wrist 
before she could follow. 

“What’s that you’ve got? I thought that woman was too 
mean to part with her necklace!” 

Mayna unclenched her hand and showed him the pearl, 
glimmering in the sunlight. “It’s only a pearl I found in that 
oyster you took from the juggler boy,” she said. “Let me 
give it to Ramagini. I’d much rather have her necklace. The 
necklace is beautiful!” 

She looked ready to burst into tears. 

“No, no, Mayna. Wait,” Dhan whispered. “That pearl 
would buy us the whole caravan if she were honest! Why 
didn’t you tell me about it while we were in Pearl Town? 
Pinla would have bought it, and paid us a fair price. Now 


54 


let me take care of it till we reach some big city, where there 
are merchants. Don't let the* other gypsies know anything, 
and you pretend to Ramagini that you've lost it." 

Mayna gave the pearl to him, a little sulkily, and Dhan 
wrapped it in a piece of silky banana leaf, as merchants wrap 
food in the markets. Then he pinned it with two large 
thorns inside his shirt. Through the days that followed 
that tiny package worried him day and night. A pearl is so 
small that it is hard to take care of safely. Sometimes Dhan 
felt that it was actually burning through his skin, and other 
times he would suddenly be in a panic lest it had dropped 
out; and would run off by himself to make sure it was still 
safe. 

When Mayna told Ramagini that the pearl was lost, the 
woman went into a fury, and made her hunt everywhere. 
She herself even searched through every inch of Mayna's 
clothing, shaking it out piece by piece. As long as there 
was a chance to get the pearl for herself she hadn't wanted 
the other gypsies to know anything about it. But now in 
her excitement she told them, and everyone joined in the 
search. They refused to break camp till it was found, and 
hunted in the dust hour after hour, while curious towns- 
people squatted around as near as they dared to come, 
anxious to know what all this commotion was about. 


55 


The gypsy leader, whose name was Babu, scowled at Dhan 
suspiciously. He said: “I believe you know as much about 
this as the girl does. See that you bring me the pearl before 
nightfall, or it will go ill with you.” 

He looked so fierce that Dhan said hastily: “I have keen 
eyes. If you give me a few more hours to hunt perhaps I 
can find it.” 

Mayna was in the womens’ tent, really frightened now 
and weeping as she grubbed about the floor in her pretended 
hunt, for she dared not give up the search as long as anyone 
might be watching her. Dhan crawled under the edge of 
the tent from behind, his finger on his lips. “Hush! Don’t 
speak loud, Mayna, but listen. That man Babu suspects I 
have the pearl; he is sure to search me, and when he doesn’t 
find it I’ll get a beating. But a pearl like that is worth a dozen 
beatings, and we musn’t let him have it. Where can we 
hide it?” 

Mayna sat back on her heels, thinking hard. “There are 
all kinds of folds and seams in the tent, but they’re sure to 
hunt through those. And there is the little monkey’s collar. 
Could we hide it under that?” 

Dhan shook his head. “A good place, but it would be sure 
to drop out if he scratches himself.” He stared at his little 
sister from the sole of her foot to the tip of her sleek head 


56 


with its thick black hair. “I wish you had more hiding 
places on you,” he said. “Do you think we could hide it in 
your hair? Maybe they wouldn’t think of looking there, for 
they’ve searched you once already.” 

“We could try,” whispered Mayna, still frightened. “Oh, 
Dhan, we must hurry and do something before Ramagini 
comes. She may come in any minute and catch us both 
here.” 

Dhan tore off a small scrap of cloth from his already ragged 
com boy, and twisting the pearl inside, managed to hide it 
with shaking fingers under one of Mayna’s black braids. It 
was the best they could do. 

And not a moment too soon, for Ramagini poked her head 
in, saying: “What are you doing here, Dhan? Go out and 
help in the packing; we can’t stay in one place forever, or 
we won’t make enough money for food. You, Mayna, take 
off your clothes. I’m going to hunt through them once more 
before I give up.” 

And she did, while Mayna stood whimpering and fright' 
ened, expecting every moment that Ramagini would clutch 
at her hair. 

“Well, you don’t seem to have it anywhere, but if you 
and Dhan don’t find it for us within the next few days, we’ll 
drop you from the caravan and you can starve by yourselves. 


57 


If the pearl is really lost you are no more use to us, and you 
eat more than you are worth. We are going all the way to 
Kandy, in the south, where all the crowds will be gathering 
for the festival of Buddha’s Tooth. We can’t be burdened 
with a couple of useless children.” 

As soon as they had a chance to talk alone, Mayna told 
Dhan what Ramagini had said. “Don’t worry,” Dhan whis' 
pered back. “Something may turn up to help us before then, 
but I do wish we could go as far as Kandy, too. I’ve heard 
merchants in Pearl Town talking about that festival. It’s a 
grand sight and everyone goes to it who can. We might find 
some merchant there who would be helpful to us.” 

But Mayna, nodding drowsily from the back of the little 
humped bullock with the red and blue painted horns, hardly 
cared. It had been such a long and frightening day, and all 
she wanted now was to drop off to sleep- 




V 

DHAN MAKES A FRIEND 
The caravan was now headed inland. It was very hot 
traveling, for a great deal of their road led through forest, 
where the thick trees and undergrowth shut off all breeze 
from the gulf. Dhan and Mayna, who had lived all their 
lives by the sea, felt stifled and miserable in the close inland 
air. At night, when they camped along the forest track or by 
some small village, it wasn’t much better, for the children 
had to do most of the hard work and the gypsies, Babu espe' 
dally, scolded them continually for their laziness, even when 
they did their best. 


59 


Food was scarce too, and the children often went hungry 
to bed. The gypsies relied a good deal upon what vegetables 
they could manage to steal from cultivated fields when the 
villagers were not looking, or on small animals and birds 
they might snare along the way. 

Wild ducks were to be found sometimes on the ponds or 
water holes, and Babu had a special trick for catching them. 
He would set one or two clay pots floating on the pond while 
he hid himself quietly among the reeds near shore. After 
a little while the ducks would get used to the pots, and pay 
no attention to them, but settle down again to their feeding. 
Now was Babu’s chance. He had one clay pot with a peep- 
hole in the side. This he would slip over his head, and mov¬ 
ing quietly through the water managed to grab one duck 
and sometimes two by the leg before the rest of the flock 
took fright and flew squawking away. It was Dhan's job 
to go with him to carry the heavy pots and bring the ducks 
back. But he was lucky if he got so much as a bone to gnaw 
after they were cooked. 

The children found that the gypsies had many different 
ways of making money. They gathered herbs and plants of 
various kinds, and made charms and medicines supposed to 
cure illness. The women were clever at weaving baskets 
and pretending to tell fortunes. Besides Ramagini, using 


60 


a needle and the juice of a certain plant, could tattoo patterns 
on the upper lips or foreheads of the village girls, who ad' 
mired this kind of ornament and would willingly stand the 
pain for the sake of looking stylish. But though the villagers 
found the gypsies exciting and liked to gather round the tents 
to watch the juggling or have their fortunes told, they were 
always a little suspicious of them, and took very good care 
to guard their own belongings as long as the caravan re' 
mained. 

There were four big fierce dogs to guard the camp. At 
first these dogs were unfriendly to Dhan and Mayna, but 
after a while they came to feel that the children were part 
of the troupe. All excepting the biggest and oldest dog, 
whom the gypsies called Gani'the'Black. 

Garu'the'Black would give a low throaty growl and the 
hair on the back of his neck would lift whenever Dhan or 
Mayna came near. Both the children kept well out of his 
way. 

“It is strange that we can make friends with all the animals 
except old Garu,” said Dhan. 

“They say Garu'the'Black has witch’s blood in his veins,” 
said Ramagini, shaking her head. “You had better leave him 
alone. We are all a little afraid of him!” 

Old Garu was sly. When the gypsies camped for the 


61 


night he would go out marauding around the neighborhood 
and help himself to anything from a live chicken to a roasted 
goat. 

One day, however, he got himself into trouble and came 
back to camp with a deep cut on his shoulder. As he limped 
along, showing his fangs, on one dared go near him. But 
Dhan felt very sorry to see the old warrior so badly hurt. 

Garu threw himself down on the ground a little way off 
from the tents, near the spot where Dhan was eating his 
own supper. Dhan watched the dog as he twisted his head 
around to try and lick the ugly wound. 

“I know you're a bad old thief, but still I'm sorry for 
you," he said. "You haven't eaten anything all day. Have 
a bite of my supper, and we'll see if I can't make you a bit 
more comfortable." 

The dog lifted his head suspiciously, ready to growl, and 
Mayna called from a distance: "Come away, Dhan. It isn't 
safe to go near Garu. He is angrier than ever, and he may 
put a curse on you." 

"Nonsense, Mayna. Don't you think that even a witch- 
dog is glad to have someone be kind to him? I don't blame 
the farmers for throwing a knife at Garu when he goes 
around stealing. But I'd like to get that cut fixed if I can. 
Go away please, and leave us alone." 


62 



“Have a bite of my supper” 

















Mayna went back to her supper and Dhan kept on talk' 
ing soothingly as he crept slowly inch by inch nearer to the 
great dog. It took patience, but by the time the stars were 
out Dhan had fed Garu, washed and dressed his wound 
and made a powerful friend in the gypsy camp. “See, I have 
only one small bite on my hand,” he told Mayna proudly, 
“and Garu didn't mean to do that; he only snapped because 
it hurt him to be washed.” 

One day when they were camped on the edge of a town, 
the gypsy leader Babu said: “Come with me, Dhan, and be 
sure you do exactly as I say. You have an honest face which 
may be useful.” He went to his tent and returned carrying 
a staff and a small basket tied in a cloth. “This is our food 
in case we get hungry,” he told Dhan with a wink. 

They walked into town, Dhan feeling a little uneasy for 
fear he would be mixed up in some mischief, but he was 
afraid to disobey. 

Babu took Dhan down the street and paused beside the 
largest house he saw. Crouching down in the shadows of a 
bush, he placed his turban on the end of a stick and held it 
up in front of a window. 

But though the turban looked like a man's head, no one 
took any notice. “It seems they are away from home. Pen 
haps at the market place watching the gypsies dance,” said 


64 


Babu with a grin, but he tried another window just to make 
sure. 

“Now you must climb inside and see what you can find, 
and I will stay here and make a noise like a nightjar bird if 
I see any one coming." 

“Oh no, I won't do that, it would be stealing!" cried 
Dhan, holding back while Babu tried to push him forward. 

“So you're too honest to earn a living in the gypsy way, 
but you're not too honest to eat the gypsies' food," the man 
hissed in his ear. “Do as I say, or you'll live on water for a 
week, and I'll give you the worst beating you’ve had yet!" 

He turned on Dhan fiercely, ready to carry out his threat 
then and there. Luckily just at that moment they heard the 
sound of footsteps in front of the house, and without more 
ado Babu clutched Dhan by the arm and ran away with him 
as fast as he could go. 

“Very well, boy," he said, as soon as they had put a safe 
distance between themselves and the house. “If you don't 
like that, I'll show you an 'honest' way to enter a house, 
if one is clever enough to do it." 

When they came to the next house he walked up boldly 
and knocked at the door. It was opened by a servant in a 
white comboy. Babu said to him: “Tell your master that I 
smell a dangerous snake in his house. If he'll give me a rupee 


65 


Ill come in and catch it for him. That will please him.” 

As he spoke Babu made sniffing sounds with his large, 
hawklike nose. His eyes looked unusually bright and pierc- 
ing as he glanced here and there until even Dhan began to 
feel uneasy, though he suspected it was all a trick. 

“My boy is a good sniffer, too,” Babu said, and added to 
Dhan in a loud voice: “While I go one way, you go the 
other, and if you smell a snake, call to me.” 

“All I smell is curry,” muttered Dhan, as the servant went 
away to speak to his master. “How could I smell a snake 
even if there is one?” 

“Easy enough, if you want to eat the gypsies’ food,” hissed 
Babu wamingly, and he pinched Dhan’s arm so hard that 
the boy began sniffing at once. 

The owner of the house wasn’t any too pleased to see 
the so-called snake charmers at his door. But when he heard 
Babu’s loud sniffs and saw his rolling black eyes he began 
to feel a little nervous and said that they could come in and 
hunt if they wanted to. 

While Dhan went prowling round the house obediently 
in one direction Babu went in another, darting here and 
there and sniffing fiercely as he pretended to search. Sud¬ 
denly he gave a shout, and pouncing into a dusky comer of 
a large room held up triumphantly a small wriggling snake. 


66 















“All I smell is curry,” muttered Dhan 


















“Don’t come near it,” he warned. “It is a very harmful 
kind!” And taking the rupee which the trembling house 
owner offered him he hurried with Dhan from the house 
and back toward the gypsy camp. 

“But why don’t you kill the snake?” Dhan asked, puzzled 
by the whole performance. 

Babu laughed. “Kill it? That would be a silly thing to 
do. This little snake is my friend and helper. I brought it 
with me.” And opening his little basket he slipped the snake 
carefully inside and closed the lid. 

When they were safely back in camp, Dhan heard Babu 
telling the story to his friends, while from his turban, his 
shirt and his com boy, he took a number of small valuables 
he had managed to pick up from the house when nobody 
was looking. “Now it is time for us to move on to another 
town before the good master discovers the loss and comes 
to find me,” Babu said with a chuckle. 

Dhan was very worried, and thought: “It will never do 
for Mayna and me to live with these rascals! We must surely 
leave them at the next big town!” 

But before the children had a chance to run away, some' 
thing else happened. 

Dhan and Mayna, who had been used to water all their 
lives, were always very glad when they had a chance for a 


68 


bath. One day the women and babies went to a nearby 
tank to bathe and Ramagini told Mayna that she might come 
with them. They bathed with their clothes on and kept a 
sharp outlook for crocodiles, for this tank was out in the 
wilds on the edge of the jungle. 

Mayna was terrified of crocodiles, and was sure she had 
caught a glimpse of one of the big monsters lurking under 
the water, so instead of venturing in with the others she 
stood on the bank, dipping up water with half a coconut 
shell and pouring it over her body. Ramagini came over 
to her. 

“Why do you never wash your hair?” she asked. “You 
children of Pearl Town used to be so clean that it was almost 
foolish!” 

Mayna turned her eyes away and said nothing, for the 
real reason was that she was afraid of losing the pearl. 

Ramagini looked at her suspiciously and suddenly ex¬ 
claimed: “Ah! I think I can guess the reason! Your hair 
used to be as sleek as a crow’s wings, and now it looks like 
tangled coconut husk! Come here, girl.” 

To Mayna’s dismay, the woman drew her behind a tree 
where the other women couldn’t see and quickly ran her 
fingers through Mayna’s hair. She felt the little wad of cloth 
with its precious burden and jerked it out. “A-ha! You 


69 


could not fool me for long , 11 she said, gazing with shining 
eyes at the beautiful pearl which lay in her hand. “See that 
you do not tell another person that I have found it. I shall 
sell it in Colombo and be rich . 11 

“But if you keep it you are stealing something which be" 
longed to me , 11 whispered Mayna. “Please give it back to 
me, Ramagini, and I will give you part of our money when 
Dhan and I sell it . 11 

“You speak foolishly, child. What is a part when one 
can have the whole? If you tell anyone that I have it I will 
feed you to the crocodiles ! 11 

Mayna didn't really believe this dreadful threat. Never" 
theless she was frightened. When Ramagini continued: 
“Run along now and join your brother who has been sent 
to get wild honey. Follow the trail to the left . 11 The little 
girl scurried away gladly enough. She ran quickly, her bare 
feet pattering over the fallen leaves and twigs, for the forest 
trail seemed lonely and full of the forest spirits. 

Soon she heard Dhan's cheery whistle and caught a 
glimpse of his plaid comboy. There he was, standing under 
a hollow tree around which swarmed many big goldemcol" 
ored bees. Dhan was planning to smoke them out. It isn't 
easy to steal honey from a swarm of Cingalese bees and he 
was making his preparations slowly and carefully. 


70 


Ramagini sent me here,” Mayna told him. "Something 
dreadful has happened, Dhan! She noticed that my hair was 
tangled and that I didn't wash it, and she found the pearl. 
She said if I told any one she would throw me to the croco- 
diles! What shall we do, Dhan?” 

"She shan't ^iurt you!” said Dhan angrily. "But we had 
better go back and pretend you did not say anything, and 
I will try to get the pearl back secretly some time. As soon 
as we have it, we had better leave these dishonest gypsies 
for good and all.” 

The sun was still high when the children started back to 
camp, Dhan carrying on his head a bamboo tube stuffed 
full of honey. 

"We must be almost there, but I cannot see the tents nor 
the animals,” said Dhan, beginning to walk faster. They 
walked quite a long distance and still saw no sign of the 
gypsies. 

Then Dhan said, "I can't be mistaken about the place. 
There is the old water tank where the women were bathing 
and here is the tree with the yellow'flowered vine where I 
slept last night. Here are the ashes of a campfire! Mayna, 
the gypsies must have gone!” 

Sure enough, they had gone away and left the two chih 
dren alone on the jungle trail. Dhan and Mayna stood still 


71 


and called and listened, but there was no answer excepting 
the mocking sound of a cuckoo bird calling “Kudl, Kudl — 
who be you?” and a Bulbul bird which cocked his head at 
them from a nearby tree. He had a tuft of black feathers on 
top of his head like a Cingalese gentleman’s topknot of long 
twisted hair. 

“Oh, Dhan, I’m afraid of 'Great Ones’!” whispered 
Mayna. “Do you suppose there are any near here?” 

“There may be,” answered her brother, “The, Great Ones 
are so powerful and swift they can go everywhere, but if 
one were coming or even feeding nearby we could hear him. 
Don’t fear the elephants, my sister. It is such creatures as 
leopards we must fear when the sun rides to its rest. If we 
cannot reach a town before dark we will sleep in a tall 
tree.” 

Dhan broke a pronged stick from a nearby bush and thrust 
it into the ground, hanging two leaves in the crotch. “There, 
that is a charm which will please the wood god and perhaps 
he may help us.” 

And Mayna looked a little comforted. 




THE IRON DRAGON 


The children walked along a narrow roadway over which 
trees arched, shutting off half the sunlight. Vines and creep- 
ers were festooned like ornamental chains. Chattering morn 
keys swung here and there and peered down at them curi¬ 
ously, or scurried startled into their leafy homes, disappear¬ 
ing almost as though by magic. 

“Too bad we frighten the monkeys so much,” said 
Mayna. “Listen, Dhan, doesn't that sound like a man pound¬ 
ing on brass or tin?" 

They stood still to listen to the “wok, wok, wok," but 
Dhan decided it must be only the coppersmith bird. 


73 





Woodpeckers tapped and pecked on other trees and a 
paradise flycatcher, with a white tail four times as long as 
his body, flew by overhead. The Cingalese call this bird the 
cloth'Stealer because it looks as though it were flying away 
with a long piece of cotton cloth. 

Once Mayna had to jump out of the way of a snake, and 
bright-eyed lizards scurried over the rocks or basked in the 
heat. It was very hot, almost suffocating, and Mayna and 
Dhan were glad they didn't wear many clothes. Great velvet' 
winged butterflies—black, red, and white — fluttered 
about; and small gnats and stinging insects rose in clouds 
from the bushes. 

“My feet are growing tired, Dhan. When shall we come 
to a town?" asked Mayna. 

“I cannot say," he answered. “Bullocks travel much faster 
than humans and I am afraid we cannot overtake the gypsies. 
Look, the sun is riding down to its rest and the shadows are 
at their longest!" 

Dhan didn't say much for fear of frightening Mayna, but 
now he was growing uneasy, because he knew that night was 
the time when the animals came down to the water holes to 
drink. There would be timid deer and bold elephants, 
slinking wildcats and perhaps a wild buffalo, the fiercest of 
all, although it was cousin to the tame fat animals which 


74 



Dhan climbed ahead, giving Mayna his hand 




drew the plows and worked so patiently on farms in Ceylon. 
All the animals would be on the watch for one another, for 
there are many animal wars in the jungle. 

“Here is a nice comfortabledooking tree, Mayna. Its wide 
branches look like cradles. If there are monkeys in it, they 
will not hurt us.” Dhan climbed ahead, giving Mayna his 
hand and hauling her up onto the biggest branch. He tore 
away a flowering vine to make more room, and with it a 
great many ants, some of which stung his hands sharply. 
There are living creatures everywhere in the jungle. 

“What will we have for supper?” asked Mayna wist' 
fully. 

“We are lucky,” answered Dhan. “I still have this bam' 
boo tube of honey and a piece of bread I saved from the 
morning meal and forgot until now.” Once the bread had 
been in the shape of a large pancake, but now as he untied 
it from a comer of his comboy it was broken into several 
pieces. However, it looked good to the hungry children, 
and Dhan divided it and with a twig smeared each piece 
with honey. 

The shadows were creeping up around them, first steal' 
ing across the ground and all the low places; then they moved 
up the trunks of trees, and last of all touched the topmost 
branches which had been tipped with golden sunshine. The 


76 


birds were silent, and the monkeys moved down onto the 
warm rocks to sit as though gossiping together, while they 
hunted fleas in one another’s fur. To the children they 
seemed like companions. 

Suddenly from a distant rock came the warning call of 
a sentinel monkey, to be picked up instantly by the other 
monkeys far and near. Chattering furiously, they sprang up 
into the trees for safety, for something was coming which 
had a better right to the lower regions of the forest. Mayna 
looked down, and clutched Dhan in terror, while he tried 
to look as brave as possible. But it was only a bright^eyed 
deer which paused a moment sniffing the air with its wide 
nostrils and then darted away. The strange scent of human 
beings had frightened him as much as he had frightened 
Dhan and Mayna, for wild animals have keen noses and 
their sense of smell is their protection. 

Mayna curled up in the notch of two branches with her 
head against Dhan’s shoulder and was soon asleep. Dhan, 
though he lay awake and watched for a while, glad that it 
was a moonlight night, fell asleep too in spite of his strange 
wooden bed and his cramped position. 

The next morning as the sun rolled up over the edge of 
the world, the whole jungle roused to life. Birds began to 
flutter and call, insects to hum. The monkeys sat up on the 


77 


tree boughs where they had been sleeping, and reached out 
for seed pods to stuff into their greedy mouths. Sometimes 
they scolded and quarreled among themselves. 

They were so noisy that Mayna was wakened. The little 
girl saw many mother monkeys leaping about, swinging on 
the rope-like vines, with their babies clinging close under 
their bodies. 

Mayna began to feel more cheerful. The jungle seemed 
very happy in the early morning sunlight, and she thought 
that it must be fun to be a bird or a monkey and live in the 
big trees. But as she was only a girl and quite unused to 
sleeping on a tree bough, her legs felt very cramped and 
stiff. She wanted to get down on the ground and stretch 
them, only she was afraid of disturbing the jungle animals 
around her. 

One grey-haired old monkey, squatting on a branch, was 
peering far out through the trees like a sailor watching from 
a mast, and Mayna looked too. 

Beyond the jungle’s edge she could see a space of clearer 
land, where trees had been cut down. There, stretching 
along on the ground side by side, lay two long ribbons of 
silver, shining in the sunlight. They looked very strange 
and queer, stretched there motionless. Mayna stared in won- 
der. Presently she touched Dhan’s shoulder. 


78 


Wake up, Brother. I can see something very queer out 
there.” 

Poor Dhan had been dreaming that he was caught in a 
trap, and was glad enough to wake up and stretch his aching 
limbs. He rubbed his eyes, staring in the direction where 
Mayna pointed, but shook his head. 

“I cannot imagine what it is. Let’s pick some nuts for 
breakfast and then go and see.” 

Soon the children were eagerly pushing their way through 
the tangle of trees and bushes. From the ground they could 
no longer see the strange silver ribbons and so could only 
guess whether they were going in the right direction. 

“I wish we could find a real road,” sighed Mayna. "My 
feet are beginning to hurt already.” 

Just then, as though some kind woods fairy had an' 
swered her wish, the trees parted, and there beyond the 
opening lay a road, stretching straight ahead as far as eye 
could see. But what a strange road it was! Each side was 
bordered by a band of shining metal, and the metal bands 
rested upon logs of wood set a few paces apart. 

Mayna caught her breath. "The silver ribbons, the silver 
ribbons!” she cried in delight. 

They drew near to the strange, gleaming tracks. 

"It looks like the backbone of a giant fish,” said Dhan, 


79 


bending down to stare curiously at the great nails which 
held the tracks in place. 

“Is it really a road?” Mayna asked eagerly. “Where does 
it go to?” 

“I don’t know,” said her brother. “But it must have been 
made by men, so surely it leads to the homes of men. Let 
us follow it.” 

They stepped cautiously over the shining tracks, and 
began to pick their way along, stepping from log to log. 
This was a new kind of walking altogether, much easier than 
walking through the rough jungle, and more fun. 

Presently they came to a huge tree which had fallen right 
across the track. There was no space to go around, so the 
children had to climb over it. Still hanging from one of 
the branches was a nest of leaves sewn together by the 
tailor bird, and the bird itself was fluttering nearby, giving 
plaintive calls of distress. Mayna had often seen these nests 
swinging high in the air from a tree bough, but she had 
never had the chance to see one close to. She stopped to 
wonder at this strange airy cradle. The leaves which made 
it were stitched neatly together with tough plant fibers, just 
as if it had been sewn with needle and thread. 

A few yards farther on Dhan stopped short. “Listen,” he 
said. “I hear something queer.” 


80 


Mayna could hear it too, a low distant roar. At first the 
children thought it might be thunder, but the sky was clear. 
The roaring noise grew louder and louder, and the strange 
road under their feet began to shake and tremble. 

"The Great Ones," Dhan cried out in terror. "It must 
be a herd of Great Ones coming!" And he dragged Mayna 
off the road to a hiding place behind a rock. 

The roaring grew louder still, and now they could see 
in the distance what looked like a cloud of smoke above the 
tree tops. Fearfully the children peered out from their sheh 
ter. A great monster was rushing down the shiny road 
toward them — not an elephant, but something far stranger 
and more dreadful. 

"It looks like a naga ," Dhan whispered, remembering the 
carved and painted dragons he had seen on temple walls. 
"Surely it is a naga. Look at the joints in its body. It's puffing 
fire out of its head!" 

Mayna stared, fascinated though afraid. She had heard of 
dragons, but never had she expected to see a real one! She 
clung breathless to Dhan’s hand while the monster swept 
toward them. 

The dragon didn’t seem to notice them, and the children 
hoped it would go right past, but instead it slowed down, 
coming to stop only a few paces from the fallen tree. 


81 


There it stood, still snorting. Now that it was quite close, 
the children saw to their surprise that it was like a string 
of low houses all joined together, with many windows to 
them. Out of its joints people began to swarm like ants from 
an anthill. 

Like the people in Pearl Town, there were brown-skinned 
men, women and children in bright com boys or with rainbow- 
hued saris or long cloths draped over head and shoulders. 
Some wore sun helmets or turbans. They walked over to 
look at the tree, all chattering in Cingalese, Tamil or Arabic. 
None of them seemed in the least afraid of the dragon on 
which they had been riding. Seeing this, the children took 
courage and crept out from hiding. 

No one took any notice of the two ragged children; all 
were too busy chattering and staring at the tree. Suddenly 
Mayna caught sight of a man in a small round cap and velvet 
vest, standing with his back turned to them. Something 
about his appearance made her catch at her brother’s arm. 
"Look, Dhan,” she cried. "I do believe that is our friend 
Pinla, the merchant from Colombo!” 

They ran forward. Sure enough it was the Colombo pearl 
merchant. He stared at Dhan and Mayna in amazement. 

"How on earth did you come here?” he asked. "Where 
are the gypsies?” 


82 



It was the Colombo pearl merchant 






“They stole our pearl and left us, and Mayna and I are 
lost and tired and hungry,” Dhan said all in one breath, 
while Mayna clutched Pinla’s sleeve as though she would 
never let him go. 

“What’s this about a pearl? Tell me everything that has 
happened,” Pinla said. “But first come with me, and I’ll 
find you some food in my lunch basket.” 

He moved toward the train, but Mayna held back. 

“What is it? Is it really a dragon?” she wanted to know. 
“Dhan thought it was, and it makes such dreadful noises, 
and breathes real smoke!” 

Pinla smiled. “It isn’t really breathing,” he told her. 
“That smoke is steam, from fires kindled by men. It is really 
just a big machine called a train, and if you come with me 
I’ll show what it is like inside.” 

Two men in uniform were walking down the tracks in 
the direction from which the train had come. “They are 
going to get help to move the tree,” Pinla said. “There is 
an elephant working on the road about a mile back, and 
he’ll soon lift it off for us.” 

He led the way to one of the strange little rooms on the 
train, and the children climbed in after him. Inside it was 
just like a tiny house, with padded seats and awnings over 
each window to keep out the glare of the sun. He shared 


84 


his lunch basket with them and while they ate Dhan told 
him all their troubles, from the first finding of the pearl down 
to the time when the gypsies had deserted them. Pinla lis- 
tened gravely, nodding his head. 

“If only you had thought to bring it straight to me, foolish 
one!” he said to Mayna, smiling at her as she hung her head. 
“Never mind. Now listen. I am going to Anaradhapura, 
which was the ancient capital of Ceylon, to pay my respects 
to the sacred Bo-tree and to do some business with a mer' 
chant friend. We may meet the gypsies there, as they stop 
at nearly every large town, and we could get help from the 
police to recover your pearl.” 

“But if we cannot find them, Mayna and I will go hungry 
indeed,” Dhan sighed. “We have managed to hide our 
father’s savings from the gypsies but that money won’t last 
long. Do you know of any work I could find in this part 
of the country?” 

“You shall not starve,” Pinla promised him. “I will make 
a bargain with you, little brother. If you get back the pearl, 
I will help you to sell it and you shall share the money with 
me, for it may be quite valuable. Until I have seen it, I cam 
not tell. In return I shall let you stay in my shop in Colombo 
and learn the pearl business. Even if you do not regain 
the pearl, you may come with me to Colombo just the same. 


85 


I think you are a clever boy and will make a good worker; 
and Mayna shall be companion for my own little daughter, 
who is as like her as one oyster is like another !’ 1 

Before the children had time to thank him they heard 
a great shouting and cheering outside the train and there 
was the elephant waddling into sight. A mahout dressed in 
loincloth and turban sat on the animal’s powerful neck. He 
gave directions and the big intelligent creature lifted and 
dragged the huge tree off the tracks, using his strong trunk 
like a derrick and balancing the tree across his tusks. 

It was interesting to watch the elephant at work, and 
before long the train was free to go rushing and snorting 
on its way. Though it seemed very queer and strange to 
be hurled through the forest so fast, Dhan and Mayna felt 
safe in Pinla’s company. Besides there was so much to 
watch from the windows that they had no time even to 
think of fear. 




VII 

IN THE CITY OF THE PAST 


When the train stopped at a station, Pinla called to a 
man who carried a hatchet in one hand, and in the other 
a stalk with several large coconuts. Pinla bought each of 
the children a coconut and the man chopped open the thick 
green outer husk and made a hole in the shell so they could 
drink the milky juice from inside. 

Beside the station was a great heap of dried coconuts 
which a man was loading onto a bullock cart, and Pinla 
told them the meat of millions of coconuts was shipped 
abroad each year. 


87 

































"Look at that poor old holy man sitting on that uncoim 
fortable board," said Dhan. The holy man was dressed 
only in a few rags; he had long tangled hair and looked very 
thin. He held a wooden begging bowl, and several passes 
gers who had stepped off the train for a few moments gave 
him a coin or two, even though some of them looked quite 
poor themselves. 

"Go and give him this coin, Dhan," said Pinla, handing 
him an anna , "but be careful not to be left behind when 
the train starts!" 

As Dhan jumped off the train, he noticed a basket seller 
standing near the Hindu holy man. Dhan wondered where 
he had seen the fellow before. 

The man was watching the crowd around him. When 
he noticed Dhan, he gave an astonished start, scratched his 
right cheek with his left hand and darted away behind the 
little station building. 

"That's the gypsies' warning sign," Dhan remembered, as 
he was about to drop his coin into the beggar's bowl. He 
glanced swiftly at the holy man, and stopped short, the coin 
still in his hand. 

The engine bell clanged and Pinla shouted: "Come on, 
Dhan. The train's about to start!" 

Dhan scrambled on board in time and Pinla said: "What 


88 


is the matter? You didn’t give the man the anna after all.” 

“Some of the gypsies were at the station!” gasped Dhan. 
“That old Hindu beggar was really Babu. Do you remem¬ 
ber, Mayna, how he could take off his peacock-feathered 
turban and fine clothes, smudge his face with charcoal and 
look just like a poor old beggar? The basket seller was an¬ 
other gypsy and gave him the warning sign when he recog¬ 
nized me. Can we go back and make them give us our pearl, 
Pinla?” 

“I am afraid we cannot stop the train,” said Pinla,. “but 
we will wait a few days at the town of Anaradhapura where 
I am going to visit my friend Rama-dul. He is a merchant 
and I want to exchange some seed pearls for tortoise shell. 
I can sell the tortoise shell in Colombo to be made into 
combs and boxes and other pretty things. Anaradhapura 
is a place where travelers come to see the sights and very 
likely the gypsies will go there to make money by enter¬ 
taining.” 

It was almost dark when they reached the city, and Pinla 
called a bullock cart with a thatched roof to take them to 
the home of his friend in the bazaar. 

Lights were beginning to glow in the windows of rooms 
back of the small shops and in the air was a pleasant smell 
of curry and onions and coconut. 


89 


Rama-dul and his wife welcomed the newcomers kindly, 
and when Pinla had explained about the children, Rama-dul 
said: “Though I have four children of my own, there is 
always room. Mayna shall sleep in the string bed with the 
two eldest girls, and Dhan may sleep on a mat beside Pinla 
and myself. 1 ’ 

Soon after breakfast next morning, Pinla said: “It is fitting 
that we three should go at once to pay our respects to the 
sacred Bo-tree.” 

The holy tree grew in the temple yard, which was sur¬ 
rounded by a wall. At the entrance Pinla bought three 
lotus-flower buds which looked something like large pinkish 
fruit. “We will take these temple flowers as offerings to 
the sacred tree,” he said, handing one to each of the children. 

The Bo-tree grew on a mound, with its gnarled and twist¬ 
ed old branches supported by poles. Around it fluttered 
many little three-cornered flags which had been hung on 
strings by pilgrims. Yellow-robed monks strolled here and 
there about the courtyard. 

“This is one of the oldest trees in the world,” said Pinla, 
saluting it as though it had been an important person. “It 
was planted here, twenty-one hundred years ago, from a slip 
of the sacred tree in India under which the Buddha sat in 
thought. What splendid sights the old tree must have seen 


90 



Yellow-robed monks strolled here and there 










in Anaradhapura long ago! This old city was once the mag" 
nificent capital of Ceylon.” 

The large leaves on the tree quivered gently, catching 
the golden light of the sun, and as Mayna carefully opened 
her lotus bud petal by petal and laid the flower at the base 
of the tree, one of the leaves fell on her outstretched hands. 
“Oh, look, this must be a blessing for me!” she exclaimed, 
picking it up carefully. For to the Cingalese people each 
leaf represented a prayer, and any pilgrim would have been 
glad to have one. 

Dhan pointed to a flock of dainty yellow butterflies soar" 
ing away over the temple wall. “Where do you suppose 
they are going?” he asked. 

“No doubt on a pilgrimage to the Holy Mountain. They 
are called samanabaya which means holy mountain pilgrims. 
Every year they migrate in thousands.” 

“Where is the Holy Mountain?” asked Dhan. “Is it the 
same that Achmed the old Arab called Adam’s Peak? He 
said that Father Adam had to stand there for hundreds of 
years as a punishment, before he was allowed to go across 
to Mecca to bring his wife Eve to Ceylon.” 

“That is one story which the Mohammedans believe,” 
said Pinla. “But there are other stories as well. Thousands 
of pilgrims go there every year, for on the top of the mourn 


92 


tain is what seems to be a huge footprint. The Hindus 
believe it is the footprint of the god Siva. Here he stood 
and stirred the sea with his trident to make the waves. 
The Cingalese say it is the footprint of Buddha. There is 
a shrine built there, and last year I myself made the pih 
grimage.” 

“I wish I could go,” said Dhan. “What did you see from 
the top?” 

“I felt as though I were looking at half the world spread 
around the foot of the mountain and at sunrise I beheld 
the wonderful shadow of the peak on the morning mists. 
It looked like the spirit of another Adam’s Peak, through 
which I could faintly see the distant rivers and valleys. 

“But it would be too hard a climb for such short legs as 
yours and Mayna’s,” he added. “You must wait until you 
are older. The last part of the climb I made up the face of 
the steep cliff, clinging to an ancient chain and iron ladder. 
No one knows who put them there, though the Arabs 
would tell you that the links of the chain which fasten the 
ladder to the rock were forged by Father Adam himself. It 
is called the Chain of the Creed, for at each link one says 
a prayer.” 

Pinla said it was now time to go back to the bazaar, so bow- 
ing once more to the ancient tree, they left the temple court' 


93 


yard. They passed a public bathing pool, where men and 
women were washing clothes, pounding them on the rocks 
to get them clean. Tortoises with outstretched necks sat 
sunning themselves upon the near-by banks, and small boys 
waded near the shore, trying to catch the tiny fishes that 
darted here and there. 

Part of the city of Anaradhapura was very beautiful. 
Near a lake stood a big hotel for foreigners, which looked to 
Dhan and Mayna like a palace. But in contrast to the new 
buildings were many strange old ruins standing about, half 
overgrown with jungle trees and vines. 

Of an evening, before bedtime, Rama-dul and Pinla sat 
smoking while they told the children stories of the days of 
long ago when Anaradhapura was the capital of Ceylon. 
After many wars were fought the capital was changed to 
Kandy, in the mountains. But at length white men from a 
country called Portugal conquered Ceylon and made a sea¬ 
port the capital, naming it Colombo after a Portugese dis¬ 
coverer named Christopher Columbus. 

“Do these people from Portugal still own our country?" 
asked Dhan. 

“No. Ceylon is now part of the British Empire," said 
Pinla. “But I see that little Mayna's head is nodding, and 
it is time to stop talking and go to bed." 


94 



“It is time to stop talking and go to bed” 


















Wherever they went during their stay in the city, Dhan 
kept a sharp watch for the gypsies. But he saw no sign of 
them. At last Pinla said: “We will have to be on our way 
tomorrow.” 

Early in the morning before any one else was awake, Dhan 
thought he would take a last walk through the ruins of 
the ancient city. 

Broken stone columns, which had once been part of a 
splendid palace, rose like a mysterious stone forest. Rain- 
trees, unfolding their broad leaves, dripped dew upon Dhan’s 
head. In a distant field, big-horned water buffaloes and 
other cattle were grazing, and there were tortoises every¬ 
where. 

As Dhan walked, he thought of the past, imagining the 
glittering spires of temples and palaces, the buildings and 
busy streets thronged with soldiers and merchants and jug¬ 
glers, king’s elephants and horses in gorgeous trappings, just 
as it had been thousands of years ago. 

“Perhaps the spirits of some of those priests and people 
are still here,” thought Dhan with a shiver. “Maybe they 
wouldn’t like a modern boy!” 

He stood staring at a beautiful old carved stairway lead¬ 
ing nowhere, and suddenly thought he heard soft, padding 
footsteps behind him, as loud as those made by bare feet. 


96 


I do hope it isn't an evil spirit," thought Dhan, thrusting 
a leaf into a forked stick as he had done in the forest. 

But perhaps that wouldn't be enough for this mysterious 
creature. Dhan had heard that sometimes people had to 
build a fire, and utter certain chants. But as he didn't know 
exactly what to do, he walked quickly on, hoping for the 
best. A moment later he stood stock still, holding his breath 
at the sight of some little brown figures darting about on 
the road directly ahead of him. 

Dhan laughed when he saw that they were only monkeys, 
playing leapfrog over some fallen columns, while one big 
monkey sat apart like a sentinel, keeping watch. At sight of 
Dhan the big monkey gave a warning cry. At once they 
all disappeared amongst the trees, as much afraid of Dhan 
as he had been of them. 

Dhan walked on, but again he heard the ghostly foot" 
steps in the underbrush and imagined breathing close to his 
side. He backed up against a belbshaped dagoba monument 
and said in a small, frightened voice, “Come out where I 
can see you, if any one is there." 

And without further warning something did leap from 
the bushes, knocking poor Dhan flat on the ground. He 
felt something wet against his face and looking up was glad 
to see it was only a big dog. 


97 


Dhan sat up. “Why, Gani'the'Black, it is you — the 
gypsies’ dog!” he exclaimed, patting the shaggy head. “How 
I wish you could talk, for the gypsies must be somewhere 
near here and I want to find their camp. Then we can get 
back our pearl.” 

Garu'the'Black wagged his crooked tail, but would not 
lead the way. His only thought seemed to be to take a walk 
with his friend Dhan. Whenever Dhan stood still, he would 
sit on his haunches with his tongue hanging out and wait 
patiently. 

Dhan wandered here and there, peering about, while the 
sun climbed higher and the shadows of trees and columns 
grew shorter. Once he saw some red flowers and thought 
for a moment it was the scarlet of the gypsy tents. He felt 
safe enough now, for it seemed that even a spirit would be 
afraid of so big and fierce a dog as Garu. 

It was very hot and Dhan knew that Pinla would worry 
if he didn’t go back. So he turned toward the town, and 
had nearly reached the outskirts, when Gani'the'Black 
darted away and disappeared almost as though by magic. 

“Where have you been, boy?” demanded Pinla, when 
Dhan, hot and dusty, walked into the shop. 

“I am sorry if I have worried you, Pinla. I would have 
been back long ago, but I saw the gypsies’ dog and have 


98 


been trying to find out where they have their camp so that 
we can get back our pearl.” 

“You are braver than you are wise,” said Pinla. “What 
could one boy do against so many? Instead we will employ 
some policemen, and search the neighborhood thoroughly.” 

The two policemen, though imposing persons in uniform 
with their big turbans and their leggings, could not find 
the gypsies and neither did they see Gani'the'Black again. 
So there was nothing for Pinla and the children to do but 
go on their way, in hopes they might meet the gypsies at 
the great festival in Kandy. 

“They are harder to find than pearls in oysters!” said 
Dhan disgustedly. 






THE FESTIVAL OF THE SACRED TOOTH 
It was a long journey to Kandy. On and on through the 
mountains rushed the snorting train, winding so much that 
sometimes Dhan and Mayna could see the end of it, like 
the tail of a dragon, though Mayna laughed to think that 
once she had really thought it was one. 

"But suppose we should fall off these strange, high places 
you call mountains!” said Mayna, who had never before seen 
anything but flat country. "Would we not roll into the rice 
fields or tea plantations and be hurt?” 

"Wheels are more sure than feet when they run on iron 
rails,” said Pinla reassuringly. 


100 













Sometimes whole mountainsides were planted in rice, 
some fields already velvety green with the growing blades, 
others, as yet unplanted, shining like a mirror. 

“How can they keep all that water on the steep hill¬ 
sides?” asked Dhan. 

“If you look closely you will see they are terraced with 
little embankments around each field, to keep the water in,” 
Pinla told him. 

“They look like giant staircases,” said Mayna. 

The tea plantations were not so beautiful, for the bushes 
though laid out in orderly rows, had little color, and all 
the fine forest trees had been cut away to make room for 
them. Only one or two black stumps sadly stood guard. 
But the women with baskets who picked the tea were 
dressed brightly enough, with their colored saris and beaded 
ornaments. 

The three travellers saw a graphite mine where the men, 
climbing up from a pit with baskets on their heads, were 
covered with black dust and shone as though made of poh 
ished metal. 

“The graphite will be sold to make pencils, like the one I 
gave Mayna one day,” explained Pinla. 

At one station Mayna noticed some little girls carrying 
books under their arms and umbrellas over their heads, 


101 


whom Pinla said were probably going to school. Nearly 
every one carries an umbrella in Ceylon. Many of these 
are white and some are made of giant palm leaves. 

The next day Pinla and his friends reached Kandy, the 
prettiest city in Ceylon, and Pinla said: “We are lucky, for 
it is the full of the moon and the month when they hold 
the yearly celebration and procession of the Sacred Tooth, 
so we shall see it! Look how crowded the streets are with 
pilgrims and visitors. Keep a sharp outlook now, children. 
We might see the gypsies at any time.” 

But there was so much to see that it was hard to remem' 
ber even such an important thing as a stolen pearl. 

“Where are all those people going ?' 1 asked Mayna. 

“Into the Temple of the Tooth," answered Pinla. “Come, 
let us follow them." 

This was the finest and most important temple in all 
Ceylon, for here was kept the supposed tooth of Buddha, 
a very sacred relic to the Cingalese people. 

The courtyard was buying with the voices of worship' 
pers, all wearing their finest holiday clothes. There were 
many yellow'robed priests, and huge gaily'decked elephants 
which had been brought in for the festival. The air was 
heavy with the fragrance of temple flowers. Heat waves 
danced and shimmered over painted walls and bare white 


102 





^ 'Mar 9 aret3Y- 

There were huge, gaily-decked, elephants 


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stones. An ear-splitting noise of tom-toms, blare of conch 
shell horns and squealing of pipes was heard, and every¬ 
where were the bobbing umbrellas. 

"There is a Kandyan Chief,” whispered Pinla. "How 
would you like to dress like that?” 

The Kandyan chief was a big man with a bushy black 
beard. He wore a blouse with short puffed sleeves, long 
white pantaloons and yards and yards of silk cloth wound 
around his waist so that he looked enormously fat around 
the middle. On his head was a jewel-encrusted hat almost 
as gorgeous as a tiny temple. 

"He looks very hot in spite of those servants carrying fans 
and umbrellas,” said Dhan. 

That night as they stood waiting for the wonderful pro¬ 
cession to begin, they could see the roofs of the Tooth 
Temple glittering in the moonlight. Inside the courtyard 
were at least forty elephants in gorgeous trappings, swaying 
and crowding one another and swinging their great trunks 
back and forth. 

"Here they come! Here they come. Make way for the 
temple elephant! Back. Back,” shouted the crowd excited¬ 
ly, though every one pushed forward as far as he dared, for 
a good look. 

The temple elephant, biggest and handsomest of them all, 


104 


led the way. He carried a splendid howdah on his back in 
which was the Tooth in a jeweled shrine. His mighty tusks 
were cased in silver and over his head and face he wore a 
kind of armor of silver and jewels. Above him towered a 
gprgeous embroidered canopy, supported on poles carried 
by men who walked on each side of the elephant. 

Other elephants followed, on which rode the headmen 
and chiefs of Kandy and the neighboring villages. They 
carried baskets of flowers and silver umbrellas. To the noise 
of conch shells, brass cymbals, tom-toms and pipes, frantic 
dancers and drummers whirled around the forty elephants. 
The dancers were great bearded men, wearing full ruffled 
skirts, wide belts of shining silver, hats of shining brass, nose 
ornaments, shoulder ornaments, bracelets and beads. 

Coconut husk torches burned with a strange shifting light 
which made everything look like an exciting dream, and 
Dhan and Mayna yelled and cheered and jumped up and 
down with excitement along with the rest of the crowd. 

Only the elephants were quiet and dignified, but nobody 
could tell what they were thinking. “Probably they are 
very proud of their splendid trappings,” thought Mayna, 
while Dhan was thinking what fun it would be to ride on 
top of one like a chieftain. 

The glittering, noisy procession at length wound away 


105 


out of sight and the crowd began to thin. Mayna, who was 
clinging to kind Pinla’s big hand, thought how cool the 
bluish moonlight looked on palm leaves and walls and houses, 
now that the wild, flickering light of the torches was gone. 

She spoke in a halfiwhisper as she said: “Isn’t it quiet 
now! But Pinla, where is Dhan?” 

Pinla stood still. They looked around, but could not see 
Dhan anywhere. A few dark figures were strolling away 
in various directions and a bullock carriage rattled out of 
sight. But of Dhan there was no sign. 

“He couldn’t be lost, for he was right by my side only 
five minutes ago,’’ said Pinla, and he and Mayna called, 
“Dhan, Dhan, where are you? We are going home to the 
rest house!” There was no answer. 

“He may have followed the procession,” said Pinla at 
last, “but that will go on for half the night, over miles and 
miles of Kandy’s streets. I know your short legs are already 
tired, Mayna, so we will not try to go after him.” 

It was true that a few minutes before Dhan had been 
standing beside Pinla, looking with interest at the mixed 
crowd of people around him. People of a dozen different 
nations were chattering in as many different tongues. 

Dhan was just wishing he could understand what a tall 


106 



>4 

He ran after the carriage and jumped on the back 





white woman was saying to her escort, a yellow-haired Eng¬ 
lishman in uniform, when he heard a soft voice close to the 
Englishman’s side saying: “Like I tell lovely lady nice for¬ 
tune?” 

The man shook his head, but the soft voice continued in 
Cingalese: “Sahib and Miss Sahib please buy charm to make 
always very fine luck?” 

“No, no,” said the man. “Go your way, gypsy,” and 
the pair moved on. Looking around quickly, Dhan recog¬ 
nized Ramagini in her bright, full skirts and jingling orna¬ 
ments. He saw Pinla and Mayna already half across the 
street, but Dhan’s one thought now was to overtake the 
gypsy and demand that she give him the pearl. 

She was hurrying away and paused to signal a bullock 
carriage to stop, so Dhan began to run through the crowd. 
Ramagini was already in the carriage, the driver had clucked 
to his little humped bullocks and they were just trotting 
away when Dhan came panting to the curb. He waved his 
arms and shouted, but no one took any notice. So he ran 
after the carriage and jumped on the back, clung to the 
joggling wooden frame like a monkey, while his thoughts 
moved faster than the bullocks’ hoofs. 

“Probably Ramagini wouldn’t give me the pearl even if 
she has it with her. She’ll no doubt go to the gypsy camp, 


108 


so I’ll sneak along behind her and try to find out where she 
keeps it.” 

At the edge of a moonlit field, where the dark forms of 
tents and grazing animals could be seen, Ramagini called to 
the driver to stop, and climbing out, argued a few minutes 
about the price, taking a small coin from her little embroid- 
ered sack. 

Dhan rolled off the cart and lay very still on the ground 
while the woman hurried across the field. He could see 
the gypsies gathered around a small fire, and he slipped 
quietly around the edge of the field, now and then dropping 
flat on his stomach like a cat and crawling carefully forward 
in the shadows. 

The dogs were the greatest danger. Several of them 
began to bark as he drew nearer, but Babu roared at them 
to be still. Only old Garu-the-Black, who had no fear of any¬ 
thing, would not obey and with fur bristling and fangs show¬ 
ing, advanced growling across the field. 

Dhan lay still until the dog was quite near and then called 
quietly: “Garu, good dog. Do not be angry, it is only your 
friend Dhan. Good dog, do not bark!” His heart was pound¬ 
ing fast. What if old Garu did not know him in the dark! 

Garu still advanced, cocking his ears forward. At length, 
just as Dhan’s courage was beginning to fail, the dog stopped 


109 



“Am I not to keep a little for myself?” 









growling and walked to Dhan’s side wagging his crooked 
tail. 

The moon had sailed down the sky as far as the tip of 
the nearest hill by the time Dhan had finally skirted the field 
and lay crouched beside the biggest crimson tent, listening to 
the voices inside. Gani'the'Black had gone back to his place 
on the edge of the camp, for this was the leader’s tent and 
there was no love lost between Babu and the old witch'dog. 

Babu was talking to Ramagini and though they spoke low 
so the other gypsies couldn’t hear, both their voices sounded 
angry. 

“I know this cannot be all the money you made today, 
Ramagini,” he said. "When you opened your purse I saw 
the gleam of silver, and now there is not a silver coin here!” 

"It is nearly all I made, O Babu. Am I not to keep a little 
for myself when I have worked for it from morning, all 
through the heat of the day until moonrise and later?” 

"No,” cried Babu unfairly. "Give it to me!” 

"No, no,” protested Ramagini. "It is mine —I earned 
it! Let go my wrist, you are hurting me!” 

Dhan wished there were a hole through which he could 
see what was going on, but could guess very well what was 
happening. 

Babu must have snatched the purse and pushed Ramagini 


111 


away, for she fell back against the tent near Dhan, making 
it bulge alarmingly. Dhan shrank back, afraid she would 
break through and find him. 

Babu was rattling the remaining coins in his hand and 
exclaiming: “You are a clever woman. There is more here 
than I expected! Oho, what is this? A dirty piece of rag 
pinned to the inside of the purse!” 

“Leave it alone! Don’t dare to touch it! It is a dangerous 
charm!” shrieked Ramagini, plunging forward. 

But Dhan could see Babu’s great shadow on the other 
side of the tent, holding his arms high. “I have seen, O 
Ramagini. It is the pearl belonging to the diver’s children. 
You have no more right to it than I. But you may go on with 
the caravan, telling fortunes and selling charms, while I am 
going by train to Colombo and sell this pearl. Then I shall 
be a wealthy gentleman and need never work again!” 

With a laugh of triumph, Babu dashed from the tent, with 
Ramagini at his heels. 

But Dhan didn’t wait to hear any more. He slipped away 
from camp and ran, ran as fast as his legs would carry him 
toward town. 



IX 

THE PEARL 


When Dhan reached the railroad station, panting and 
weary, there was Babu pacing up and down the platform, 
his hawklike eyes keeping anxious watch around him, while 
the station master sat nodding on a bale of tea neanby. 

Dhan hid behind the ticket office, trying not to breathe 
too loudly while he racked his brains for what to do next. 
At any moment the train might arrive, and there was no 
time to find a policeman or get any help. So he waited, and 
before long he heard the distant rumble of the train and 
the toot of the engine. 


113 



The station master roused from his nap, and shouted to 
Babu: “The train comes, gypsy ! 11 

The moment it stopped Babu jumped aboard, almost cob 
liding with a man who was getting out at the same time, 
and once more the whistle tooted and the train started. 

“I'll lose him again, perhaps forever ," 1 Dhan thought in 
despair. “If only Pinla and Mayna were here ! 11 But there 
was no help for it, he must make up his mind quickly. So 
he made a dash, jumped on to the last car, and almost before 
he knew it was being carried rapidly down the tracks 
toward Colombo. 

“What are you doing here, boy? 1 " demanded the con- 
ductor angrily, when he found poor Dhan, still out of breath 
and clinging uncomfortably to the outside of the window 
frame. 

“I can pay my fare if you'll help me inside , 11 Dhan gasped. 

“A strange way to board a train ," 1 said the man, hauling 
Dhan through the open window, and looking at his money 
a little suspiciously when the boy was safe inside. “Next 
time you'd better be at the station a bit earlier, or you"ll 
get yourself killed!"’ 

Dhan was thankful that Babu hadn’t seen him. Now there 
would be a few hours at least in which he could rest undis¬ 
turbed and collect his wits. 


114 



Dhan hid in the next doorway to watch 













It was morning when the train reached Colombo. In all 
Dhan’s dreams of seeing the great city, he had never 
imagined reaching it like this! His thoughts now were not 
on sight'seeing; his only desire was to follow Babu. The 
throngs of people and the busy traffic confused him at every 
turn, and it was all he could do to keep the gypsy in sight 
along the crowded streets. Dodging and twisting like an 
eel, Dhan followed as closely as he dared on Babu’s heels. 

White men and women, Arabs and little brown boys sell' 
ing post'cards, Chinese coolies with their loads, oxcarts 
and rickshaws, bicycles and terrifying roaring automobiles 
— never had Dhan imagined such noise and confusion. 

At length they reached the winding dusty streets of the 
native quarter. Here in the shabby little shops were the 
dealers in jewelry, tortoise shell and precious stones. 

Following at a safe distance, Dhan watched Babu enter 
one shop after another. Each time he came out, he looked 
more and more worried and impatient. 

The next time he turned to enter a shop, Dhan sidled 
near, and hid in the next doorway to watch. Babu did not 
stay long here, either, but as he left the shop the owner fob 
lowed him out, saying: 

“Come back at four this afternoon and I will see what can 
be done.” 


116 


Then as Babu strode sullenly away the merchant called 
to a shop owner across the narrow street. “Come here a 
moment, my good friend. I want to consult you." 

Dhan edged nearer, and heard the first merchant saying: 
“That gypsy had one of the best pearls I have ever seen, 
but I don’t know whether I dare buy it from him.” 

“These gypsies are never to be trusted," the friend an' 
swered. “Perhaps the pearl is a false one, or if it is real it 
is undoubtedly stolen. You had best be careful!" 

“When he comes back I will have someone here within 
call, who will know how to deal with him if there is any 
trouble." 

Dhan slid quietly away. As he walked along he was 
trying to think out some plan, though his head was in a 
whirl. He felt sure that none of the grand Colombo police' 
men would pay any attention to his story, or even listen 
to complaints from a boy his age. He must act for himself. 

Suddenly an idea came into his head. He had still a little 
money left. Counting it carefully over, he went into the 
nearest clothing shop. 

A fat Hindu sat on a little raised platform smoking a water 
pipe, while a young Indian woman and her servant were 
examining a pretty rainbow'tinted sari spread out before 
them. A sari, as Dhan knew, is a garment worn draped 


117 


around the body and over the head. One could see very 
little of a woman wearing a sari , so it was important that the 
garment itself should be worth looking at. 

As soon as the customer left the shop Dhan went boldly 
up to the merchant. “Will you let me see your cheapest 
sort!" he asked. “I want to buy one for my sister.” 

Cheap as it was, the sari took almost the last of Dhan's 
money. After nearly ten minutes 1 bargaining, he walked 
out carrying the bundle. Watching his chance, he slipped 
into a deserted alleyway between two buildings, and draped 
himself in the sari as well as he could. Taking small dainty 
steps like a girl, he made his way to a shop with a glass 
window and looked at his own reflection. 

He could hardly believe that the reflection he saw was 
really himself and not an actual Hindu girl. He practiced 
walking back and forth, arranging the folds of the garment 
carefully, and a passing Cingalese woman turned to laugh at 
him and say: “Little sister, you are as vain as a peacock!” 

Dhan was delighted that she had really taken him for a 
girl. The sari still felt very strange on him, and to get more 
used to the feeling of it he strolled slowly about, looking 
in at the shop windows as he went. Each window was like 
a glimpse into another country, for here were things from 
all over the world — China, Japan, Europe. There was so 


118 



He practiced walking back and forth 






much to interest him that he could have gone on looking 
for hours, but the striking of a clock in a tall tower reminded 
him that time was passing. 

“It looks something like Pinla’s watch,” he thought, star' 
ing up. Dhan did not know how to read the time, so he had 
to ask a passenby to tell him what the hour was. 

He bought himself some round flat bread and a little fruit 
with two of his remaining coins, and at the time when Babu 
was to return was already waiting near the jeweler’s shop, 
on the watch for him. 

The moment he saw the gypsy coming down the street 
Dhan slipped into the shop, his heart beating fast. There he 
saw carved ivory, moon'shaped combs and bangles, bracelets 
and nose'rings and ornaments of every kind. 

He laid his last coin, a silver one, on the counter, and 
asked in a timid little voice, as much like a girl’s as he could 
make it, to look at a bangle. While he was holding it, pre¬ 
tending to examine it very closely, the gypsy came in, and 
the shopkeeper left Dhan at once and turned to Babu. 

“So you’ve come back,” he said. “I thought the police 
might have found you by this time.” 

Babu gave a guilty start, but drew himself up again boldly. 
He said: “The pearl is my own. I have come all the way 
from Pearl Town on the Gulf of Manaar, where I had the 


120 


good fortune to buy an oyster which held this beauty/’ 

He laid the pearl on his great brown palm and held it 
out temptingly for the merchant to see, and the man leaned 
forward, his eyes shining eagerly. 

Dhan was sidling closer, peeping out shyly from behind 
his sari , but no one took notice of an unimportant little girl. 
It was plain that the merchant was talking to gain time, and 
his eyes watched the doorway, while Babu grew more and 
more impatient for him to make up his mind. Just then two 
other men entered the shop, calling out a greeting to the 
merchant. 

Dhan saw his chance now. He dived forward, snatched 
the pearl from Babu’s palm and dashed like a squirrel through 
the open door almost before any of the astonished men saw 
what was happening. Right into the thick of the crowd he 
plunged, tripping up a boy with postcards, twisting like an 
eel in and out between the people. Up one street and down 
another he dodged, narrowly missed being knocked down 
by an automobile. At last he paused for breath around the 
comer of a narrow alley, behind a palm tree. Here he tore 
off his sari , and then ran on again, for he could hear angry 
shouts drawing nearer along the streets, and the words 
“Hindu girl” sounded plain to his frightened ears. 

At last he came to a quiet comer near an old temple, and 


121 


sat down on the welhwom steps to rest. He clasped the 
pearl tightly in his hot hand, still not daring to look at it 
for fear someone should see. Strange to think that he held 
such riches, and yet he was tired and hungry as a beggar, 
without one anna to buy food and no place to sleep that 
night! * 

“I wonder what Pinla and Mayna are doing now," he 
thought. "If only I could let them know where I am!" 

And then he remembered. Pinla lived in Colombo. It 
was his home. Somewhere in this big crowded city, in the 
native quarter, there would be people who knew Pinla and 
could tell him where he lived. 

Meantime, in Kandy, Pinla and Mayna had done their 
best to find Dhan. They searched everywhere, but could 
find no trace of him. At last Pinla said: 

"Little sister, I can stay here no longer. I must get back 
to Colombo and my family, where my business is waiting 
for me. You had better come with me. We will leave word 
in the rest house here in case your brother returns, and I 
shall ask the Kandy police to keep watch for him. More 
than that we cannot do." 

It was a sad and solemn little girl who followed Pinla to 
the train. Hour after hour Mayna stared silently out of the 
window, seeing nothing of the strange country that whirled 


122 



He sat down on the well-worn steps to rest 







past her and blinking hard to keep back the hot tears in her 
eyes. Nothing, not even Pinla’s kindness, could make up for 
losing Dhan. Now she didn’t care where she went or what 
became of her. 

At last they reached Colombo. Outside the big crowded 
station Pinla hailed a carriage, and they were driven straight 
to his home in the jewelers’ quarter of the city. In the little 
shop his family greeted him eagerly. 

“Wife, how glad I am to see you again! Marawasi, my 
little daughter, your eyes are like stars over the sea. And 
you, my elder daughter, have become more beautiful than 
ever. It is a wonder no Rajah has come to ask you for his 
bride!” And drawing Mayna lovingly forward, Pinla added: 
“This is Mayna, whom I want you all to love and cherish. 
I found her in Pearl Town, and she is indeed like a little 
precious pearl herself. From now on she will be one of our 
family, and a sister to our own little daughter.” 

The two little girls stood looking at one another shyly, 
and Pinla’s wife said: “Well I know your charity toward 
all, good husband! But I have glad news for you too. There 
is one in our house now who has come from afar and has 
been waiting anxiously to see you.” 

As she spoke she drew aside a curtain, and there stood 
Dhan, smiling. 


124 


'You see I found your home, kind Pinla, and something 
else as well which will make you as happy as it does me!” 

At sight of her brother Mayna gave a glad cry, and her 
little face broke into smiles like the sun rising over the 
sea. She clung to Dhan as though she would never let him 
go again, and it was plain that not even the sight of the 
wonderful pearl could add to her happiness. True that it 
meant comfort and riches, but what were these compared 
with the joy of finding her brother again, safe and sound! 

Pinla laid his hand on Dhan’s shoulder. 

"I always knew you were a brave and clever boy, little 
brother,” he said. "Now you must tell me all your adven¬ 
tures, and how you got the pearl back from the gypsies, 
while my wife and daughter prepare a feast for us all. After 
that we will talk business, you and I. I need a lad like you 
to work in my shop, and if you like the idea and are willing 
to learn, this pearl can be in truth the beginning of a real 
partnership, and of a secure and happy future for both you 
and your little sister. For more and more I feel it was a lucky 
day when you and I first met on the shores of Pearl Town!” 





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